


Sever

by devil_in_kind



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Arguments, Distress, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Virgil-centric, alskjfalsdkjfalfs, but it's got a happy ending (or it will if anybody wants more lmao), coping mechanisms (i guess????), i'll put chapter warnings, i'm pretty sure this won't be very long, it's not like SUPER angst or anything but its like... moderate angst, not rly a shippy fic so all ships are platonic, the summary makes it sound smutty but i stg its not, this is just another stupid take on fight or flight i'm not original, what do you mean impulse posting isn't a good idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devil_in_kind/pseuds/devil_in_kind
Summary: Virgil's got a big-ass secret. And he knows it's probably stupid he's still hiding it, and if he doesn't want anybody to be mad he should just tell them, but the fam has been doing so well lately, and he doesn't want to make everything weird...Whoops. Too late. Damn, living with Patton, you'd think there would be less arguing.





	1. Damsel in Distress

**Author's Note:**

> this is an impulse fic b/c what is self control!!! tell me if you need any warnings ily  
> Warnings for this chapter: Swearing, mentions of arguments, panic, anxiety attack (sorta, it's close enough that you shouldn't read this if you don't like descriptions of those), secrets, mentions of secrets.

Virgil clutched his head in his hands and let his back slide down the door. Distantly behind him he could hear the other Sides' angered shouts morphing into panicked shouts. It was kind of nice to think they were worried about him, at least he knew they cared.

Another lightning strike of red-hot pain shot through Virgil's skull like a bullet, and he couldn't help it- he screamed. For the love of Mary, this was not going to help his slowly-developing 'hi-guys-I'm-a-little-weird-but-mostly-normal-now' persona. He clenched his teeth through the pain. He wasn't going to let this happen without a fight, he'd been doing so well recently- they'd _all_ been doing so well recently. Through the old throbbing pain, he tried to sort out his options like Logan had taught him.

 _Alright_ , he thought. _There are the two ultimate results. They either find out, or they don't. Priority is..._ Virgil paused. _Fuck it. Priority is they don't find out, specifics are for nerds._

Ah, yes. Virgil knew how to prioritize. A sudden and sharp knock at his door startled him, and he felt a shriek escape his lips as he scrambled away towards his bed. He would certainly find the time to be mortified later, but he had bigger problems on his hands at the moment. Sudden and sharp knocks at his door distressed him. And bad things tended to happen when Virgil was distressed.

"Virgil? Are you okay?"

Patton. It was hard to miss the thick concern in his voice, and Virgil wished for the millionth time he'd never left the other Dark Sides, because at least they were considerate enough to ignore him when he was embarrassed. Why did Patton have to care so much?

Another shooting pain stabbed through Virgil's head, earning a second cry.

As if things couldn't get worse, more footsteps joined Patton's outside Virgil's door. Roman and Logan. They were probably here to apologize or something. Virgil grit his teeth harder. He couldn't show himself in this state! Maybe he could hold himself together for one more minute- spit some excuse just passable enough to get them to leave.

"Virgil!" That voice was Roman's, no doubt about it. "We're so sorry we were shouting, we had no idea it alarmed you so. Please come out and talk to us!"

"Perhaps we should leave him to his own devices," Logan murmured, so quiet Virgil hardly heard.

"Are you seriously that dense? We're going to freak him out and then abandon him?"

"I'm not suggesting abandoning him! If we are the ones who alarmed him, perhaps we shouldn't be the ones to comfort him, not immediately anyway. Our presence may feel oppressive."

"Pat!" Roman cried. "What do we do?"

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._ Their anxiety was not helping his situation. It was just a stupid argument in the first place, why did he have to be like this!

"Virge?" Patton tried again.

" _Piss off,_ " Virgil growled. The distortion in his voice was horrible, hopefully it added to the fear factor. Ever since they'd grown to appreciate him, he hated having to do anything remotely scary, because he wanted to show them he, in turn, appreciated all they were doing for him. But this really qualified for an emergency in his books, and a scare was better than them dealing with any mental-breakdown-fallout he couldn't control. But his heart sunk when Roman responded with a hearty,

"No-can-do, Darth Virgil! It was our mistake leaving you alone in the past, and we learn from our history."

" _You don't get it- augh!"_ Virgil's head screamed in pain, the worst yet. " _Stay away!"_

It was going to happen, it was happening right now! None of them had locks on their doors, what would happen if the others decided their idealistic feel-good session outweighed his boundaries? What happened if they _saw?_ If Virgil had been feeling panic before, it didn't hold a candle to the terror he was feeling right now, which only helped speed up the process he was trying (and failing) to delay.

"He's in physical pain?" Logan sounded alarmed, which Virgil might have marveled at were he not in such a precarious situation. "Patton, if Virgil is in physical pain, we should help him."

"I'm with Logan on this one," Roman interjected.

"I don't know- I mean, what if he's trying to keep us safe?"

Virgil's heart jumped. Maybe Patton could talk them out of this, and when Virgil had finally found a way to cool off he could come back and tell them what was happening- what was _really_ happening. The truth. No more secrets, forever, he would take the consequences he deserved. Virgil repeated this mantra to himself feeling like a sinner on doomsday, praying that if he survived this one ordeal, he would never do wrong again.

"I wouldn't think it wise," Logan said slowly, "To leave Virgil to fend for himself if there is any immediate danger."

"Are you in danger, Virgil?" Patton's voice had jumped up in pitch. Not good.

Virgil tried to say 'no', but what came out instead was a bloodcurdling shriek as a wave of searing agony ripped through his body.

_Panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, panic, run away, run away, run away, run away, get them away from me, get them away from me!_

He didn't realize it, but he'd curled up into the fetal position at the foot of his bed. He couldn't speak, couldn't _breathe_ , couldn't _think_. There was only _fear_ , and he couldn't do anything more about it- the change was already happening, at a deep, deep level somewhere inside him.

 

If Virgil had been aware enough, he would have heard the shouting at the door, and Patton's split-second decision to see what was happening. But he wasn't aware enough to hear those things, not over the roaring of blood in his ears. He certainly _was_ aware enough to notice the door being practically ripped off it's hinges as the other three Sides burst inside, flooding his room with harsh shards of light he had so carefully hidden away from. It was finally this: their imposing silhouettes, the blinding lights, the stress, the burden of holding a secret inside him for so long that made it too much for Virgil. Far too much.

 

The temperature dropped until breath was visible in the air. Then, a violent snap like a firecracker, and suddenly where there used to be one Virgil lying on the ground, there were now two, completely and utterly unconscious.

What the _hell_ were the Sides supposed to do now?

 


	2. Prepare for Trouble (And Make it Double)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit lmao i didn't expect anybody to actually see this fic???? but thank you all for leaving such amazing comments! (also sorry for not responding to most of them lmao i just didn't want to say the same thing over and over again b/c that makes me feel like it's less genuine you know?? idk) anyway i meant to update this sooner but I'm on a cruise rn so i don't have wifi unless i wanna pay like $50 so that's not happening lol  
> Chapter warnings: cursing, arguments, anxiety/impending panic attacks i'm pretty sure that's it?

Logan didn't have nervous habits. He didn't run his hands through his hair, he didn't tap his feet, he didn't bite his nails, and he certainly didn't pace. Having nervous habits wouldn't make sense- they wouldn't fix anything, they were largely more of a hindrance than a help. They were, simply put, illogical. So, if you asked him, no, he didn't have any nervous habits. And if you thought otherwise, you could keep your big mouth shut.

And yet, nervous habits were far from his mind as he paced between shelves of books, biting his nails and running his hands through his hair. He'd seen a whole lot of weird in his lifetime- he'd seen dragon-witches and manticore-chimeras and Patton fill his cheeks with marshmallows because Roman dared him to. But he'd never seen anything like this.

 

Somebody knocked on the door and Logan nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Come in," he croaked.

Patton cracked the door open. "Hey, kiddo." He opened the door a little wider to make way for the tray of snacks he was balancing on his arm. "Any luck so far?"

Logan buried his head in his hands and groaned, "No. I've looked through every book here and found nothing, though it was hardly likely any of them would inform us of what is happening in the first place."

Patton set his tray down on a table, Logan took a saltine cracker and crunched on it mournfully. He wanted to change the subject, it was frustrating to admit he didn't know what was going on. "Have you made any progress with Virgil?"

It was Patton's turn to sigh, "Nope. The kiddo- er, kiddos, are still asleep, but Roman and I finally got them set up nice and comfy on the couches in the living room. Anyway, I thought it might be time to eat something, so I brought you this. I don't think any of us have had anything since breakfast."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

 

They sat in silence for a moment, neither sure of what to say, or what could be said. When Patton finally spoke, it was with a question Logan had not been expecting,

"Have you apologized to Roman yet?"

Logan looked away and grunted. Truth be told, he had guiltily been hoping the Virgil crisis would excuse him from having to perform that particular action. He did _not_ want to apologize. He had nothing to apologize for. If that impulsive idiot had just tried to see sense...

Logan realized he was scowling, and quickly rid his face of any expression. If Patton noticed, he didn't bring it up.

"I have not," Logan muttered. "But he has neglected to express regret as well. Why don't you go ask him?"

"I did, silly goose."

"Oh." Logan's face flushed in humiliation. Once again, he had let emotions win over his better judgement. "What did he say?"

"Well, he wasn't quite the happiest camper at first," Patton admitted. "But after awhile, he said he might be willing to talk about it when this is all over. Would you be okay with that?"

Logan searched within himself and found no anger, only exhaustion. He was too tired to be angry anymore.

"Yes, I suppose so," He finally agreed.

Patton smiled warmly. "Thanks, Lo."

Logan nodded. Then, a sudden thought came to his mind,

"Is Roman watching, erm, the Virgils?" They _had_ to come up with a better name for them than that.

"Yep." Patton popped the 'p'. "Just for awhile, until I get back."

"Let's hope neither Virgil wakes up until then," Logan murmured.

"How come?" Patton looked over at him, puzzled.

"Well, those two don't exactly get along the best. They're friendly enough now, but their relationship is still rocky, to say the least. Besides, we don't know what either Virgil is thinking. Who knows what would happen if they woke up in a room alone with him?"

 

A crash, followed by an offended shriek was heard distantly from the living room.

Logan and Patton all but sprinted out of Logan's room towards the sound of the commotion. Logan skidded into the commons and stopped cold, very confused at the busy scene before him.

 

One of the Virgils- or, Virgil 1, as Logan would presently refer to him as- was pressed up against the wall, breathing heavily, eyes wide with panic. He was staring at a furious Roman, who was completely and utterly drenched in chicken noodle soup. Yellow broth stained his white prince costume, his hair was a matted mess of noodles and chicken, mushy peas and other assorted vegetables dribbled down his sash. And between them, Virgil 2 held himself sharply upright in an alert, defensive position that looked much too practiced and knowledgable for Logan's liking.

"What was _that_?" Roman shrieked. Even Logan could see the slight tremor in his hands, hear it in his voice. Roman generally meant well, but his lack of impulse control could get him into some sticky situations, and his concentrated passion was a force to be reckoned with.

"I could ask you the same thing." Virgil 2 spoke for Virgil 1 without hesitation in a biting, frozen surety Logan had never heard him use before. It was clear this was not what Roman had been expecting either, but he shook it off soon enough in favor of his pride.

"You could," Roman retorted. "But you aren't the one covered in scalding soup when you were only trying to help!"

"You wouldn't have had to help if you hadn't fed into the problem in the first place," Virgil 2 snapped. "But apparently you don't know how to pick your battles, _or_ keep them to yourself."

"Be nice," Patton said gently. Virgil 2 shot him with a withering glare, and any other words Patton might have said died in his mouth.

"Well, you could at least try to cooperate with us, instead of being a thorny bastard." Roman turned his nose up.

"'Cooperate'," Virgil 2 snorted. "Funny. I'm up now, I can look after myself."

"Are you sure you should?" Logan found himself speaking before he could stop himself. There was a beat of silence before Virgil 2 bristled,

"Are you saying you think I'm incapable?"

"No! Of course not," Logan backtracked. "It's just, well, perhaps we may be able to assist in figuring out how to..." He struggled to find the right words.

"Fix me?" Virgil 2 narrowed his eyes.

"...Yes?" Logan swallowed. Was that the wrong thing to say?

"Thanks for the offer, _slick_ ," Virgil 2 sneered, "But I don't need your help. This isn't exactly the first time I've been around the block before, not that you'd know that."

"This has happened _before_?" Patton squeaked. He looked absolutely devastated.

Virgil 2's hard countenance didn't change, but Logan saw his eyes flicker from Patton to Virgil 1, who had not moved nor spoken since they'd arrived. It occurred to Logan that Virgil 1 didn't look well- his skin was pale and glistening with sweat, his hands were trembling, his eyes were darting around the room like he were looking for every possible exit. It appeared he was beginning to experience a panic attack.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter now." Virgil 2's tone had quickened in the slightest, and Logan might have begun to understand why. A seed of hypothesis was beginning to form deep within his mind.

"Of course it matters!" Patton cried out. "We've left you on your own when you needed help!"

Virgil 2, who had previously been facing Roman, turned to face Patton fully, keeping his back to Virgil 1 protectively.

 _Protectively._ Logan's hypothesis strengthened.

"I just told you, I don't need any help." Virgil 2 hissed. "Leave me alone. _Please_." His words were beginning to sound more like a warning than anything else. "Just let me take care of this, and everything can go back to normal."

"Patton, I think maybe we should-" Logan started.

"Oh, _kiddo_ ," Patton said sadly.

Patton stepped forwards, arms outstretched, presumably to give a hug. Virgil 1 made a strangled scream of alarm, and vanished instantly.

There was a beat of silence, then,

“You fucking idiots! You freaked him out!” Virgil 2 screeched. He growled in exasperation and vanished behind Virgil 1, but not before hissing one final, “Stay away!”

 

Patton looked absolutely paralyzed.

“I just wanted to give the kiddo a hug,” He whispered.

“Don’t worry, Pat.” Roman put a gentle arm around his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Virgil is just… hard to understand, is all.”

“Actually, I think I’ve got it.” Logan was grinning from ear to ear.

Roman and Patton both looked at him, one of them dubious, the other hopeful.

“Care to elaborate, Teach?” Roman finally said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alskdfjl;asdkfjlsk i'm thinking about adding in some dark sides here and I've already made a few dark side ocs for this other enormous sanders sides fic i was already working on so i'm thinking of inserting some into this story? what do you guys think (and don't be afraid to tell me it's a shitty idea if you think it is lmao i promise i won't get offended) anyway heyyyy! logan's figured it out lol good job buddy


	3. The Name of the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back at home with wifi so thats kool. also, sorry these chapters are so short i stg they get longer (next chapter in particular i pinky promise). Side note (pun intended) I just started the second draft of my other sanders sides fic (the first draft was 116 pages long and when I actually make it good it's gonna be longer lol) and I'm really hyped about it!!!! it's the one i talked about last chapter in the notes w/ the dark side ocs and this is the furthest I've gotten on any project ever so i'm really excited about it :DDD  
> Chapter warnings: not many tbh this is from Patton's POV and it's pretty mild. Deceit cameo? There's not even swearing or anything. Roman gets a little miffed.

“Fight or Flight?” Patton echoed.

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Logan’s thrilled expression didn’t quite fit the mood of the situation, but Patton didn’t want to bring him down. “Since he is Anxiety, his response would be different than simply choosing one, like Thomas does.”

“I’m confused.” Roman frowned, “How does this work? Is Virgil one person, or two?”

Logan’s eyebrows drew together, the way they did when he was thinking. “Well… let me explain it this way- what is that animated television show Thomas enjoys? With the extra-terrestrial mineral life forms?”

“…Steven Universe?” Patton raised his eyebrows.

“Ah, yes. In Steven Universe, I assume you are well aware that two or more of these ‘crystal gems’ can combine into one being.”

“Fusions.” Roman nodded. “Are you saying Virgil is a fusion? A combination of Fight and Flight?”

“Not exactly.” Logan twisted his fingers together uncertainly. “In fact, I believe it’s closer to the opposite. Take, for example, Garnet. Garnet is a fusion of Ruby and Sapphire, meaning the components that make her up were already individuals. When she splits back into two gems, that is their natural state. Virgil is more like… if Sapphire split into two on her own. Sapphire is naturally one gem, and splitting into two would separate her own characteristics, but it would not necessarily create something new.

“Splitting into Fight and Flight is separating already-existing components of one person, rather than Virgil being a fusion of two already-existing individuals.” Logan looked up from his enthusiastic explanation, and Patton saw him blush when he realized how long he’d been rambling. “Does that make sense?”

Roman made a noise of affirmation, “But the question remains,” He frowned, “Why did Virgil never tell us?”

 

“It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he thought you might view him as a freak and cast him out,” A honeyed voice drawled. “And it _definitely_ is not related in any way, shape, or form to his time spent with the other Dark Sides and I.”

“Deceit!” Patton gasped, and he felt a hopeful smile spread across his face. Sure, Deceit was a liar, but he generally meant well. And if he were here, it meant he knew something, which brought them one step closer to helping Virgil. “Do you know something about this?”

“No.” Deceit nodded his head crisply. “And I would not be inclined to share any of my knowledge on the subject with you.”

“How long will this last?” Logan demanded.

“It certainly has nothing to do with the emotional stability of both of Virgil’s halves. They don’t combine when they feel safe again.”

“If they combine when Virgil feels safe, why haven’t they combined already?” Roman asked.

Deceit rolled his eyes. "Why do you think, genius? And don't even consider he doesn't feel comfortable around the people who used to make fun of him mercilessly, because that's not it."

Roman clenched his jaw and kept uncharacteristically quiet. After a moment of silence, Logan finally said,

“Why should we trust you?”

Deceit’s face twisted unpleasantly, and Patton thought he saw a hint of flush creeping up his neck as he turned away.

“Virgil isn’t an important part of Thomas, or my friend,” He spat. “And I don’t care about his well-being at all.”

Before any of them could say another word, Deceit sunk out, presumably to wherever his room was. It seemed Dark Sides had a habit of doing that.

 

“I believe him,” Patton finally said. Somewhere deep in his chest, the helplessness he felt was dissolving under the heat of his newfound determination.

“Mm.” Logan hummed in consideration, “I trust he is telling us the tr- erm, untruth.”

Roman said nothing, but Patton didn’t miss the small scowl twisting the edges of his lips. He would have to come back to that later- just because one kiddo was in trouble didn't mean Patton got to slack off on any of his other kiddos. He didn't want to re-open any fresh wounds though, so instead Patton just said,

"Then we'd better pick up our slack and try harder!"

He smiled at the others, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his own stomach. Two polar Virgils they'd never dealt with before? There was no way he was leaving him to suffer, but this might take a lot more work than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slimy Boy™ is trying to help out awwwwww. ((I'm gonna be real, I don't think there's gonna be a primary antagonist in this for the most part, the biggest problem is probably Virgil's fear and self-doubt? i think you know what i mean))  
> also exposition ftw (subtlety who??) and correct any of my SU stuff if it's wrong i've never actually seen the show


	4. Close Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey finally a chapter a little longer than one and a half pages. sorry this took so long to get uploaded, I just kept feeling like it wasn't right yet? I still feel like that but i've gotta upload something you feel me (this is why i shouldn't impulse post)  
> Warnings: Cursing, arguments/accusations (i'm gonna level w/ you it's just petty bickering and a little bit Fight throwing shade tbh)

Roman buried his face in his hands and groaned. He was supposed to be 'brainstorming', but in all the hours he'd been laboring with his quill, he had yet to come up with one idea. What the hell did 'brainstorming' even mean? It sounded like a Logan thing- calculated, and with no passion behind it. Typical. With all his brains, Roman would've thought he knew good ideas didn't just come from thinking really hard- inspiration came naturally, and with stimulation from outside sources. But he couldn't access any outside sources, because he wasn't supposed to leave his room.

It was a tragedy, honestly. But Patton had suggested it in his 'Dad Voice', and when Patton used his 'Dad Voice', there was no arguing with him. Supposedly, with Logan's reasoning, it was to help 'Virgil' (that was to say, Fight and Flight) not feel so threatened. Roman scowled. Sure, he liked Virgil well enough, and sure, he felt bad for splitting him in half. But it was hardly _Roman's_ fault Virgil had never told him about his little secret; he had nothing to do with one half of Virgil or the other being to anxious to blink around other people. Deceit was wrong- Roman had never made fun of Virgil mercilessly. He'd insulted him, and called him names and... and bullied him. But he'd never made fun of him _mercilessly_. He _hadn't_.

Roman shook his head to clear his thoughts and sunk down in his chair, glancing around the room for something to do. Brainstorming wasn't producing anything. There was the Imagination, of course, but how could he go on some fantasy quest when he might be called upon at any moment? And daydreaming was out of the question- there was no way Roman would be able to focus on anything in this mood. Besides, Thomas was probably too distractible at the moment.

 _Thomas_.

Roman sat up straight with a sudden thought in his mind. Did Thomas know about any of this? It had only happened this morning (as bizarre as that felt, it was the truth). There was no way in hell either Virgil had told him about it. Logan had been researching all day, Patton had been taking care of everyone, and Deceit had no reason to say anything, so unless the rest of the Sides were all having a party without Roman, Thomas had no idea what was happening. Was there even anything happening at all? Was Thomas feeling anxious? Thomas hadn't been involved in the argument, the problem was purely with Virgil, but could it still affect him in that way?

Request from Dad or not, Roman felt a little bit of Logan instinct welling up inside of him- this was a mystery he had to get to the bottom of. And he definitely wasn't channeling his inner Deceit by telling himself it was purely for the well-being of Thomas, and had nothing to do with Roman being painfully bored.

Roman sunk down, and rose back up next to Thomas, who happened to be in the kitchen. When Thomas turned around, he flinched violently and nearly dropped the mug of green tea he had been holding.

"Geez, Roman." Thomas put a hand to his heart and leaned against the counter for balance. "Maybe a little warning next time?"

"Sorry, Thomas." Roman nodded curtly. "I just came to see how you were doing."

"Why wouldn't I be doing okay?" Thomas asked stiffly. He squinted, "And why are you covered in soup?"

Roman looked at his stained suit and muttered a few choice words under his breath. "That's not important. _However_ , Logan and I had a bit of a... professional disagreement earlier. I came to make sure it wasn't causing you too much trouble." That was probably believable, considering it was most of the truth.

Thomas raised one eyebrow, "You and Logan were fighting?"

"That's one way to put it." Roman grumbled. "Look, I'm just wondering if anything's been bothering you since this morning."

Thankfully, Thomas didn't prod the subject further. "I mean, I guess, yeah. It sucks, but it's not like it's something I can't deal with."

Roman chewed the inside of his lip. "What kind of things are bothering you?"

"Everything." Thomas rubbed his temples with his fingers. "I feel so antsy and restless, but I don't want to  _do_ anything. It's not very fun. Is this what happens every time you two don't get along?"

"Erm... yes. How often does this happen? Just so I know how intense the argument has to be for you to feel the effects, of course," He added.

Thomas hummed in thought. "It used to happen a lot in the past. But, now that I think about it, hasn't happened in awhile. It's been a few months at least, since the last one I could really feel."

"Interesting," Roman murmured. He shouldn't stay for too long- he wasn't a natural liar like Deceit, Thomas would notice something was up eventually. Roman cleared his throat, and stood up a little taller. "I'm sorry, but I must be going. Thank you for everything."

Thomas blinked in acknowledgment while taking a long sip of his tea; Roman sunk down again and rose up in his room.

 

Roman sat on his bed and mulled over the things Thomas had told him. He cursed himself for not asking more specifics- he'd set himself up for a lot of guesswork. Unfortunately, it would be too suspicious to return now, which meant his next source of answers was Logan. To Logan's it was, then. Roman walked up to his door and poked his head out. When he saw the coast was clear, he started down the hallway.

Logan's room was the farthest away from his, it would be easier to cut through the living room rather than waste time going all the way around. He saw the entrance to the living room and got halfway through the doorframe, before stopping cold when he saw a figure sitting on the couch- one of the Virgils, it looked like. The T.V. was on, with a video game displayed on the screen. Roman quickly ducked back behind the doorframe, holding his breath.

Sure, he wanted to get to Logan's room without incident. But he also wanted to learn about Virgil 1.5, and he wanted that more. Careful as to not make any noise, Roman once again leaned through the doorway and looked closer.

The first thing he noticed was what the Virgil was wearing- the old, black hoodie Roman had assumed he had gotten rid of. _Shiver_. That hoodie still gave him the creeps. Somehow, Virgil's eyeshadow was even more prominent than usual. His dark eyes were fixated on the screen, a permanent scowl pulled across the corner of his lip and muttering curses under his breath.  _Fight_ , Roman thought to himself.

Fight was in the middle of a boss battle. He dodged every attack, never getting hit once. The timing with which he attacked his enemy was impeccable, formidable, even. Roman almost would have been impressed, were he not trying so hard to stay hidden and silent. Eventually, a final blow was dealt, and his enemy collapsed into dust. Fight's countenance didn't change much, but Roman didn't miss the sigh he breathed out, or the little smirk that played it's way across his lips and disappeared.

Unfortunately, apparently watching somebody play video games is just as distracting as people say it is, because Roman had forgotten to focus on staying hidden, and now the top half of his torso was visible for any and all occupants of the living room to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over. The T.V. display faded to black, and Roman realized too slowly that his reflection was clearly visible in the dark screen.

 

Faster than he could blink, Fight was facing Roman, poise sharp and tense, a snarl creeping up the edges of his mouth.

" _You_ ," He hissed. "How long were you watching me for, huh?"

"I wasn't watching you!" Roman said, trying and failing to back away gracefully. "That wasn't my intention, I swear it on my honor! I was only going to see Logan."

Fight narrowed his eyes, "Why did you feel the need to walk there, huh? Hoping to cross paths with some unfortunate Side you could humiliate, or scare?"

"What? No!" Roman scowled. "I've just been cooped up in my room all afternoon because of _your_ little breakdown, and felt the need to stretch my legs."

"Don't get so high-and-mighty, slick," Fight sneered. "That 'little breakdown' was your own fault- _you_ severed me with your petty argument."

"So, what, Logan has nothing to do with this?"

"Don't try to throw him under the bus, this is all about _you_. Just like everything else, right?"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

 

"What's going on here?"

Both Roman and Fight whipped around to face the door to the kitchen. Logan was leaning against the doorframe, staring at Roman intently.

"I was minding my own business, when I spot this _creep_ watching me." Fight pointed to Roman.

Logan turned on Roman, "Is this true?"

"Well- hey! There's a reasonable explanation-"

Logan cut off his ramblings with a sigh, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Roman, are you not capable of following directions?"

"That's not fair, you can't just ignore context-!"

"-I can, and I will," Logan interrupted flatly. "The fact of the matter is that wherever you were going, you could have appeared there on your own. We gave you one simple instruction, Roman. Can you not obey even that?"

That stung. Roman knew he was a bit of a rule-breaker, but he'd hoped it was in a charming sort of way. Apparently not. And, despite how much he wanted to protest further, he knew Logan was right. Logan beckoned him to his side sharply; Roman obeyed, shutting his mouth and glaring at the floor.

"Apologies, Fight." Logan said, then instantly stiffened upon realizing he'd called him by his theoretical title. Luckily, Fight didn't seem to care, only shifting his eyes between Logan and Roman and drumming his fingers against his thighs.

"Whatever," He finally muttered. He looked at Logan, "I'm going to my room. I trust you to tell Patton not to bother me."

"Well-" Logan looked as if he were about to say something, but decided against it. "I suppose I could do that."

In the blink of an eye, Fight vanished into thin air. Roman turned to Logan to explain himself, but shut his mouth when he saw Logan's cold expression. Logan stalked away, leaving Roman stumbling to keep up. Logan led Roman into his room and shut the door quietly. Roman wanted to say something, but he didn't want to cause any more damage, so he stayed quiet.

It took Logan a few minutes to collect his thoughts, but eventually he said,

"What did you want?"

"What?" Roman had been expecting a shouting, not this.

"Roman, you'd better have a reason for this, otherwise you've just driven him away again. _Please_ tell me you have a reason."

"I just wanted to know what Thomas knew about this." Roman fidgeted with his sash, looking at the ground.

"Did you tell him anything?" Logan asked sharply.

"No! I swear I didn't. I just asked him how he'd been feeling since this morning, and if he's felt like this in the past."

Logan raised an eyebrow, "What did he say?"

"He feels restless but unmotivated." Roman paused, "And he hasn't felt this way in awhile."

"This hasn't happened in awhile?" Logan seemed to have forgotten entirely about his previous irritation as he nodded along. "Interesting. What do you think this means?"

Roman raised an eyebrow, "That's what I was coming to ask _you_."

"I don't understand emotions, Roman. Perhaps we're going to have to work together on this one."

"You're not mad at me?"

"Oh, I'm mad at you," Logan narrowed his eyes, "But we're not going to get anywhere by fighting. In the meantime, we should notify Patton of these recent developments. He sent me to ask Fight if he would join us for dinner tonight, but clearly that isn't going to happen."

Roman wanted to curl up into a ball and die. Oh, he'd really fucked it up this time.

"Sorry," He said quietly.

Logan ignored him, and Roman followed his lead as they both sunk down to Patton's room.

 

Roman could barely rise up before he was tackled down again by a hyper-active Patton, encircling his arms about him in a great big hug.

"Hey, kiddo!" He cried out. "Gosh, I know it's only been a little while, but I've missed you! Still haven't changed out of that soupy outfit yet?"

Roman rolled his eyes. "Hey, Pops."

Logan didn't beat around the bush. "Fight will not be joining us for dinner, and he has asked me to tell you not to bother him."

Patton's face fell. "How come?"

Logan and Roman exchanged glances. "Typical defensiveness," Logan finally said. "Perhaps they need more time to get comfortable."

"If they were _comfortable_ they wouldn't still be split apart!" Patton moaned, putting his head in his hands.

"Severed," Roman corrected. "Fight said we 'severed' him with our argument."

"Whatever! Severed!" Patton sat down on his bed, looking crestfallen. Roman had seen him last only a few hours ago, but Patton was beginning to look a little worse for wear- skewed glasses, messy hair, glassy eyes.

"You okay, Pat?" Roman sat next to Patton and nudged him gently with his shoulder. Patton drew his knees up to his chest,

"No," He mumbled. "I don't know how to help! I don't want to leave them alone because I want them to know we care, but I don't want to overstep any boundaries because I don't want to suffocate them."

"Trust me, Pat, you're doing the best you can with what you've got." Roman squeezed Patton in a quick hug. "Come have dinner with us. I think we all need to have a meal, unwind a bit. It'll be good for us."

Patton sighed and stood, and Roman ignored his sullen mutter of ' _-would be good for Virgil too-_ '.

 

The commons area seemed wrong, somehow. Maybe it was the lack of a hooded figure curled up on the couch, maybe it was the absence of tinny music audible from bad headphones, something was missing. A prick of disquiet niggled in the base of Roman's stomach. He remembered when he used to enjoy seeing the commons like this- empty, unwelcoming, cold.

Nobody had the morale to cook tonight; they all conjured their own meals. Nobody tried to initiate conversation, and for that Roman was grateful. His mind was too chaotic, too cluttered- trying to pay attention would have ended in disaster. When they were done eating, they de-materialized their utensils and sat blankly for a moment, trying to figure out if there was anything they were forgetting.

Roman looked over at Patton, who looked as though he were about to cry. He rested a hand on his forearm, "We can't force him into anything, Pat. Like you've said before- we'll just have to wait until he's ready, however long that is."

"Yeah, but..." Patton sighed dejectedly, '...Yeah." The crinkling of paper was heard, and suddenly Patton was holding a bag of Chinese takeout. "They've probably already made themselves something to eat, but..." He looked at the ground. "Just in case, right?"

Patton sunk out before Roman could say anything more. Roman turned to Logan, who seemed to be lost in thought.

"Perhaps more research," He murmured.

Roman smiled wryly- Logan and his research would save the world someday. Roman sunk out himself, rising up again in his own room. He kicked off his shoes and was about to collapse onto his bed when something caught his eye- a paper on his desk that hadn't been there before. Roman plucked it from atop the pile of discarded notebooks to inspect it more closely.

It was a little black notecard, with no discernible markings or signatures on the outside. Roman flipped it open.

_sorry i spilled soup on you im just kinda twitchy and it was an accident i really didnt mean to please please please dont hate me -v_

Roman looked around his room curiously. This notecard couldn't have been here for long- he must have just missed his skittish visitor. Through the guilt of lashing out, Roman felt a small smile spread across his face. _Progress_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is gonna be a pretty short story lmao but I'm having so much fun writing this I'm gonna make myself sad when i end up ending it lol (don't worry guys we're still a ways away from the end i'm pretty sure i was just thinking about it)  
> also heyyyyyy we finally got kinda introduced to flight and he's just as smol as you were expecting (he's gonna end up acting like a little shit at some point too though like he's definitely got that Virgil Sass™ in him)


	5. The Bee that Leaves the Hive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven't updated this in five months lmao depression is a bitch (and ADHD is like bitch 2.0) but anyway, thanks y'all for commenting and shit! every time i get an email notification from this story i get unreasonably happy that people read my stuff and so yeah. i appreciate y'all <3  
> (this chapter is short af fyi sorry)  
> Chapter Warnings: Cursing, anxiety, mild panic attacks.

Flight hesitated, card in hand. Sure, he'd been the one who wanted to do this in the first place, but he reserved the right to change his mind, and apprehension was too mild a word for how he was feeling right now. How would Roman even react? Really, there were only two ways in which this apology letter could go, and Flight knew it. Either, Roman wouldn't have taken it as a mistake when Flight spilled soup on him, and would see the apology as a taunt; or, Roman would have already predicted the spill was an accident, and would take the letter as proof that Flight was naive and stupid and deserving of condescension. Those were the only two ways Flight could see it going, anyway.

Fight's words echoed in his head-  _I_ _f it really goes as bad as it could, I'll be here to protect you. You know that, right?_

Flight's lips tilted in a feeble smile. He  _did_ know that. Regardless of how badly Roman took the letter, at least the apology would be over and done with, and Flight wouldn't feel so bad about it anymore.

Outside, the floorboards creaked.  _Roman_. He had no idea of knowing if it were actually Roman or not, but like he always said- better safe than sorry. Flight squeaked and let go of the notecard. He was gone before it hit the desk and reappeared in his own room, shivering and shaking. His knees collapsed with nerves, but Fight was there, as always, catching him only moments before he hit the ground.

"Hey," He murmured, "You're okay. You're okay. I'm proud of you, you know that?" Fight hefted him up until he held him bridal-style. "You're so brave. I don't know anyone else who could defy their nature like you did, just to apologize."

"M'not brave." Flight buried his face in the crook of Fight's arm, the combination of mortification and fear enough to make him feel like he was about to pass out. "Just clumsy and apologetic."

"Not as clumsy and apologetic as Patton." Flight could hear the grin in Fight's voice, and a weak smile graced his face.

Fight set him down on the bed gently. "Do you need anything?"

"Water," Flight nodded gratefully, "And food. I'm starving."

"No shit," Fight snorted, "We haven't eaten since we were severed. Bet they have no idea how many calories  _that_ burns."

A wave of dread washed over Flight at the very recollection of the moment.  _It really happened._ They severed in  _front_ of the others. _They_   _know._ Flight curled in on himself and felt a whimper catch in his chest. Fight didn't miss it.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Fight tussled his hair gently, "Yeah, they know, but we're still not sure if they hate us yet. I might actually be optimistic about this one- you know how you said you were hungry? Patton actually dropped off Chinese food at our door earlier. I was waiting for you to get back to eat it." He raised up a large plastic bag filled with white boxes.

The horrible straining in Flight's insides eased up a little at that. "He brought us dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Did you check it out?"

"Did I- what? Did I check the food out? For poison?"

"Yeah."

"It came from Patton!"

"I want to check it out." He shifted. "Just in case."

"Flight, why would Patton want to _poison_ us?"

"Just to be sure," Flight pleaded. "Did you check?"

"Yeah," Fight admitted. "I checked. It's clean."

 

Flight breathed a sigh of relief and sat up in bed.

"Sorry for making you wait up."

Fight sighed, "When will you learn, Flight?" He nudged him on the shoulder, "You don't have to apologize to me."

"Sorry."

"Okay, now you're just being a little shit."

Flight giggled, and Fight laughed with him. Fight passed him a box of takeout, and they both dug in unceremoniously. Flight  _mm_ 'd in appreciation- Patton really knew how to conjure good food.

 

"So, I've been thinking," Fight mumbled through a mouthful of chow mein, "And you're not gonna like this, so prepare yourself."

Flight slowly chewed his bite of eggroll and obediently steeled himself for whatever was about to come out of his other half's mouth. "Okay."

"We both know this time is different, right? I mean, it's not gonna be the same as before, because the others know, so we won't settle as easy this time around."

Flight nodded cautiously. "Yeah, I know."

"I want you to keep an open mind about this, alright? We can test the waters out for maybe a day or so, see if we can deal or not, okay?"

"Jesus, Fight, would you just tell me what it is already?"

"We're gonna have to go out and interact with the other Sides."

 

Flight nearly choked on his food, and covered his mouth with his hand to keep from spewing shredded cabbage and chopped pork all over an ususpecting Fight, who was looking at him quite concernedly.

"No way." Flight shook his head vehemently once he recovered his voice, "Absolutely not, nada, nope, no thank you, end of story. There's way too much risk in that sentence to even  _consider_ it."

"Flight, look," Fight scooted closer, handing Flight one fortune cookie and unwrapping another for himself, "You know you're the only one who dislikes this plan more than me. But, like I said, we're just looking into it. If we see anything we don't like, we're outta there, no questions asked."

Flight stayed quiet, trying to still his trembling hands as they gripped the bedcovers underneath him.

 

"You don't have to make a decision now." Fight shrugged, scooting back to his former seat and grabbing a carton of pad thai, "I won't lie- it's not gonna be easy, and for the first while, things probably won't be pretty between the others and I. But, thinking from an objective standpoint, it seems to me that the faster we cross this bridge, the faster we can get things back to normal."

Flight finally found it in himself to let go of his iron grip on the comforter to reach for another eggroll, trying his best not to freak out more than he already was.

"I'll think about it," He finally whispered hoarsely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter title is referring to an aphorism- 'the bee that leaves the hive is never alone')


	6. One Step Forwards, Two Steps Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy late new year fuckos. im about to become louder than god's revolver and twice as shiny if you know what im sayin  
> (trying to get back in the groove of things, thanks for all y'alls nice comments last chapter <3 glad you're still here with me. idk why it takes me so long to write anything for this fic, but thanks for reading anyway. love ya weirdos.)  
> Chapter Warnings: cursing, anxiety, arguments/yelling  
> chapter long as fuck, boiiiiii. read a six-book series in two days and now im ready to fuck with my fic, go figure i guess.

Logan had glossed over the charts so many times he felt like his eyes were about to melt out of their sockets.  _Hey vs. hi vs. what's up? vs. salutations vs. hello vs. etc_. Varying levels of casualness, feeling, and thought behind the words, and how to properly string them into sentences to, hopefully, make both Fight and Flight feel more at ease with him.

Unfortunately, it all would be rather moot if they never came out of their room for him to practice on.

There was another chart for that. 'That', particularly, being getting Fight and Flight out of Virgil's room. He'd copied the chart onto notecards with assorted invitations to different activities on them. Sudoku (Logan was particularly keen on this one), movie night (less keen), baking cookies (he didn't even know how to bake), puzzles (marginally more enjoyable), there was even an invitation purely to sit in the living room alone, so they could reacquaint themselves with the environment.

 

Logan had spent all night studying and preparing, and now, at 6 AM, he was acceptably exhausted. Very few times had he pulled an 'all-nighter'- he hardly ever found an occasion where one was called for. But this, he couldn't wait until the next day to do, because he might miss an opportunity to fix what he had broken. And, if he were being honest with himself, Deceit's words had latched themselves into his mind. Perhaps he hadn't necessarily 'made fun' of Virgil in the past, but he was entirely aware that his criticisms towards his fellow Sides were hardly sugarcoated. His stomach twisted unpleasantly to think it possible he'd severed Virgil before, but had remained ignorant to the fact.

Sigh. Unfortunately, Logan couldn't change the past, so he would have to make do with the present. The present him happened to be dying of thirst, and demanded that he had a glass of water, so Logan stood from his desk and slipped down the dark hallway towards the kitchen. The sky was in the dark blue-gray haze stage of morning, before dawn- the first hint night was coming to and end. It filtered through the windows and provided almost enough to see by, so Logan didn't bother turning on the lights.

Logan shuffled into the kitchen and felt for the cupboard with the cups in it. He opened one at random, felt around, and silently rejoiced- his fingers had found the handle of a ceramic mug. He moved to pull it off its shelf, but his exhaustion kicked in at exactly the wrong moment. The mug slipped out of his grip and fell off the shelf, and Logan winced, waiting for the moment of impact to wake everybody in the headspace up. Only, it never came.

Logan frowned and blinked, looking around. A quiet  _clink_ was heard, and Logan felt lithe, warm fingers grab onto his hand and guide it to the mug, which was now sitting on the counter. His eyes struggled to adapt to the darkness, but he could barely see the outline of a dark figure in front of him. The figure crept backwards slowly, carefully. Who...?  _Oh_.

"Flight?" Logan whispered. Flight leapt several steps backwards, and Logan put his hands up in surrender. He struggled to find the words he wanted- this wasn't exactly the opportune moment to ask him to play Sudoku. So instead, he just said, "Thank you."

Flight hesitated. Logan could just see his eyes now, shining in the darkness. Flight nodded, an impulsive, unsteady jerk of the head, and vanished before Logan could think to say another word.

 

Logan cursed under his breath- he couldn't keep letting them slip away like this! Hydration forgotten, he sat at the counter and mulled over his next step. Flight was awake, which presumably meant Fight was too. Did they ever sleep? ( _Wait, f_ _ocus!_ ) Perhaps he should just invite them to breakfast once everybody else was up, short and simple. No, they wouldn't like surprises- and if everybody else were up and waiting, the time limit would only be an added pressure. What if he asked them to breakfast now? That way they would have a few hours to think it over. Yes, that seemed reasonable.

Logan breathed out an unsteady sigh and stood, making his way down the hallway in the dark. He stopped outside Virgil's room and knocked, then immediately kicked himself- he hadn't even thought about how he was going to phrase the request! Unfortunately, he didn't get any time to think about it, because barely a moment later the door swung inwards, and there Fight stood in all his suspicion, shadows wrapped around him like a cloak.

"It's six in the morning. What the fuck do you want?" Fight snapped in a low voice.

Logan opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, his mind blank. Fight looked around scowling.

"It's just you?"

Logan nodded.

Fight growled indecisively, then reached out and grabbed Logan by the hand, yanking him through the doorway and nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. Somehow, Virgil's room was even darker than it was outside. Fight closed the door and snapped his fingers, and a lamp turned on, blinding Logan momentarily. When his eyes finally adjusted (again), Fight folded his arms and cocked an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

Logan looked around. "Where is Flight?"

Fight tensed. Logan was quick to put his hands up in surrender, "It doesn't matter. I just came to invite you two to breakfast."

"Why?"

That gave Logan pause, because for all his understanding of the reason, it proved difficult to communicate in a way that made sense.

"Well," He worded slowly, "I suppose you two could fix this by yourselves, but without mine and the others' explicit approval, we may risk you 'severing' exponentially more often due to insecurities, or possibly fear of danger. Re-integrating yourselves into our lives, beginning with something simple, such as a meal, may prove useful in warding off such obstacles. Of course, I'm only assuming all of this- correct me if I've said anything you disagree with."

 

There was a pregnant pause, and Logan tried to prepare for the worst. But something strange happened then: Fight relaxed. Not all the way, of course, and Logan had a sneaking suspicion the scowl was permanent, but Fight's raised shoulders fell back to their average Virgil-level stiffness, and since he'd pulled Logan into his room, he allowed himself to blink and look away for a moment.

"Thank God," Fight muttered.

"What?"

"You didn't give me any touchy-feely bullshit," Logan was still trying to decode emotions, but Fight's face read loud and clear his wary relief. "It tells me two things: you're not lying, and you're not about to do anything unpredictable."

Logan mulled this over for a moment. "Fair point," He admitted. "Will you at least consider breakfast?"

Fight sighed. "We'll think about it. But Logan?"

"Yes?"

"Stop trying to start conversations with Flight." Fight gave Logan a stony, pointed look, "If he wants to talk with you- fine. He'll start. But if you want to talk with him, it goes through me first. Understood?"

Logan nodded slowly. "Understood."

Fight's shoulders un-tensed marginally again. "Good. Now leave."

Logan did.

 

Despite Fight's adamancy that he and his other half weren't too enthusiastic about a family meal, Logan's baited breath paid off when he heard a throat clear behind him two hours later as he was retrieving all the ingredients for the breakfast he had planned to prepare. Logan set down the container of flour and turned around, finding two Virgils fidgeting at the kitchen entrance.

"You came," He said, trying to mask his smugness with indifference.

"Yeah, well, don't get too excited," Fight grumbled. "So far, we're only here to help you make the food. The only way we're eating with everybody else is if we prepare the meal, capiche?"

Logan frowned. "Capiche...? Why do you need to make the food?"

"To make sure nobody fucks with it." Fight met his gaze with steely steadfastness, daring him to protest. Logan wouldn't have protested, even if he could, because he was too preoccupied with the new influx of information and subsequent questions that single statement had given him to care much about the specifics of Fight's demands. They wanted to make the food so nobody could  _poison_ it? Just how paranoid were they- as far as Logan knew, Sides couldn't even  _get_ poisoned! Though, now that he thought about it, there wasn't exactly any proof to back that up. Hm.

"You can set the table, if you want to be helpful," Fight continued dismissively. "Actually, Flight?" Fight turned around, and Flight's head perked up by merely millimeters. "Can you help Logan set the table? It's fine if you don't want to."

Flight whispered something indistinct in Fight's ear. Fight nodded,

"You're doing great. If you want, you can help me cook when you're done."

Logan stared. It was obvious from the beginning that Fight was going to be protective of Flight, but Logan had never expected him to be so... gentle with him. Maybe more annoyed looks and prickly comments. Fight noticed him looking, and his face twisted unpleasantly.

"What are you looking at?"

Logan averted his eyes. "Nothing."

 

Fight should have sentenced Logan to life in prison instead, because setting the table with Flight but being unable to initiate conversation was torture. He had so many questions he knew Fight would find intrusive- and he didn't want to make anybody uncomfortable, especially when the situation was as delicate as this one- but come  _on!_ 'Severing' was a phenomenon he'd never heard of before! What did it feel like? Could it happen to anybody else? Could they think each other's thoughts, like twins, or were their minds too different?

"Are you okay?" Whispered a quiet voice.

Logan looked up and realized he'd been standing still, carried away in his thoughts. More importantly was who had brought him out of his figurative trance- Flight stood on the opposite side of the table, eyes wide, face betraying his concern.

"I-"  _Should I? Flight_ did  _speak first, after all_. "I'm fine." He nodded, "Merely daydreaming."

"You daydream?" Flight cocked his head.

"No," Logan admitted, "But I use the term interchangeably with 'getting distracted', as to not offend Roman."

Was that a smile on Flight's face? It came and went too quickly to tell.

They finished setting the table without another word, but Logan could barely contain his satisfaction- Flight had spoken to him of his own volition, and if that wasn't progress, he didn't know what was. Flight spent an extra ten minutes adjusting the alignment of the utensils just so, until he was convinced they were perfect.

 

Flight and Logan returned to the kitchen where the found Fight at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs in separate pans. He glanced up and gave Logan a once-over, raising an eyebrow at Flight. Flight dipped his head, almost imperceptibly, and Fight turned back to his cooking.

"There are German pancakes in the oven. I just put the bacon on. Do you want to take it?"

"Can I do the eggs instead?" Flight shuffled his feet. "Those are harder to really overcook, and they don't taste as bad if they do."

"Sure."

Flight went straight to work, staring at the eggs as if the entire stove would explode if he looked away. Fight looked at Logan again. Rolled his eyes.

"Well, since you're still here, you might as well make yourself useful. The oranges are in the fridge, the juicer is in the cupboard, I'm assuming I don't have to explain this to you."

For several minutes, the only sound was the sizzling of oil on the stove, and the muted ripping of the juicer. Then, Logan heard one of the Virgils murmur something he didn't quite catch.

"What?" That voice was Fight.

More murmuring.

"Of course you can. As long as you feel comfortable."

There was another beat of silence. Then, Flight said, hesitantly audible,

"H-Hey, Logan."

Logan turned his head to look at Flight. "Yes?"

"Wanna hear a joke?"

 

Logan blinked. That was  _not_ what he'd been expecting, but he was open to hearing it. Mostly because he was interested in what kind of jokes a perpetually-panicked Virgil would make, but also because Fight was giving him the death stare, and he didn't want to know what horrible fate awaited him did he not act appropriately.

Logan hesitated too long to answer, and Flight began to backtrack. "I-I mean, it's long and not very good because I made it up, so if you don't want to I really, totally-"

"-Yes, I would like to hear your joke."

Flight paused. Breathed a nervous giggle. And began anyway. "Once upon a time, there was a company called 'Logic', and it's headquarters was built near a fault line."

"Why would they-" Logan's rationally-charged interjection was cut short by the look on Fight's face, daring him to say another word. He shut his mouth.

"One day," Flight continued, "The superhero Wolverine came to inspect the place, because he'd heard the bad guys were hiding out there. But while he was there, there was an earthquake, and because the building was near a fault line, the whole building came down on top of him. Yet, he came out of the incident unscathed. Why?"

"Because of his regenerative-"

"I don't know, Flight," Fight interrupted. "Why was Wolverine unharmed?"

A rare, sly grin played across Flight's lips. "Because Logan does not suffer from faulty Logic."

Logan blinked. Then to everyone's surprise- including his own- he began to smile. A small smile, albeit, but a smile nonetheless. Flight saw this, and his eyes lit up.

 

"What is this?" A new voice shattered the moment. As if it were choreographed, Flight stepped closer to Fight, and Fight pulled him behind his back, adjusting himself into his defensive stance. Logan cursed to himself- couldn't whoever it was have waited to be woken up instead? He turned to face the newcomer.

Roman yawned, glancing around the kitchen and assessing the situation. "So..." He drew out the 'o' for awhile. "You guys are making breakfast?"

"What's it to you?" Fight narrowed his eyes.

"Nothing," He said. "...Thanks?"

"You're welcome," Logan replied before Fight could say anything, hoping to alleviate some of the tension. "In fact, I think we're almost ready. Roman, will you go wake up Patton?"

Roman nodded carefully, "Sure."

As soon as he was gone, Flight began hyperventilating. "This wasn't... I mean I can't... fuck. _Fuck_." He looked up in desperation.

"-Flight." Fight put his hands on Flight's shoulders, "Do you remember what I said to you? If you can't have breakfast with them, there's no harm, no foul. No one blames you." Then, to Logan's enormous surprise, he looked straight at him. "Right, Logan?"

"O-Of course not," Logan agreed, stumbling over his words. "I won't push you to do something you feel you're not ready for." He hesitated, considering his next move. "Although," He added, "Personally, I would enjoy the meal more if... if you were here. With us, I mean."

Fight paused, raising an eyebrow. Then,

"What I do next depends entirely on you, Flight. You can stay, and I'll stay with you. You can go, and I'll go with you."

Flight hesitated.

 

"Everything okay in here-" Patton stopped in the doorway and looked between Fight, Flight, and Logan. "-kiddos?" He finished.

Flight took Fight's hand, and a moment of understanding passed between them. Fight turned back to the bacon as if nothing had happened, and it was though time began to move again.

"We were just talking," Fight said. "Breakfast is almost ready- the table is all set. You'd better be hungry, because we spent a fuck-ton of time on this."

"Language," Patton corrected mindlessly. Both Logan and Patton stopped, but Fight seemed to have adjusted better since day one of severance.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes, "Just sit down."

Patton gave Logan a cautiously optimistic thumbs up, and did as Fight asked. Fight cut the pancakes into reasonably-sized portions, and Flight heaped the bacon onto a plate, taking the pan of eggs in his other hand. Logan poured the orange juice into a container, and together the three of them brought their respective contributions into the living room, where they laid them on the table and sat down.

Roman and Patton were already in their seats, and there was a long, drawn-out silence for several moments.

"Are we waiting to say grace or something?" Fight rolled his eyes. He dished himself up, followed quickly by Logan, and then soon everybody was reaching across the table and passing the salt and pouring the juice. When everybody had served themselves, they ate slowly, trying and failing not to stare at the Virgils.

"How about that season finale, right?" Patton beamed, trying to create a distraction.

"Yeah," Roman murmured, clearly not paying attention. "It was something."

 

Logan took a bite of his eggs. They were cooked to perfection. "Fight, may I ask you a question?"

Fight barely tensed at all this time. "Shoot."

Roman scowled, presumably indignant the Virgils were opening up to Logan rather than him. Logan ignored him. "Out of professional curiosity- how will you explain this incident and subsequent emotions to Thomas?"

"Same as I always have." Fight shrugged, "With as little detail as possible. This isn't the first time this has happened, I've worked out the story. It's usually something like: 'I'm feeling under the weather, it'll be fine soon'."

"Ah." Logan resumed chewing, both his curiosity and his ego sated- Fight answered his question without anything overly snarky, which was more progress than  _Roman_ had made.

"Why not just tell him the truth?" Roman asked, making sure Logan was looking at him as he asked the question he clearly thought was brilliant. He was mistaken.

"Why do you think, moron?" Fight rolled his eyes. "Because it would make me very anxious."

"What?" Roman straightened. "It was a perfectly acceptable question- why am _I_ a moron and Logan isn't?"

"Because Logan's question was a valid concern of action, and your question was a personal one of speculation. I don't do 'personal', and you already knew the answer anyway, so you were just asking it to get social points with me. Not to mention, Logan asked permission nicely. Also," He added as an afterthought, "I don't like you. Yeah, that's definitely the main reason."

"Be nice," Patton chided.

"Well, he did just ask why I wasn't being honest."

"That doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it," Roman scoffed.

"I know."

Roman set his cutlery down with a loud clatter. "I don't have to stand for this."

"Oh, don't leave," Fight turned his stony, mocking gaze on Logan, and suddenly he didn't feel so smug. "I still want to criticize Logan, and I know you'll want to hear that."

Roman stopped halfway out of his seat, and slowly lowered himself back down, much to Logan's chagrin. "Go on."

"Roman!" Patton frowned.

 

"What have I done?" Logan asked, truly perplexed.

"I'll give you points for initial sincerity, Logan." Fight nodded, "But you can't stop scheming for a second, can you?"

" _Scheming?_ "

"Scheming!" Fight snapped. "You know, plotting? Like how you were using Flight and I as a way to make Roman feel bad without receiving backlash because it was technically helping?"

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Sure, it was true, but when he put it like  _that_ , it sounded bad.

"You  _what?_ " Roman turned on Logan.

"'Out of professional curiosity'," Fight mimicked Logan's voice eerily well. "Yeah, right. And don't think I haven't noticed your acting skills- really? Smiling? Small talk? I recognize new notecard behavior when I see it. I would have congratulated you on your progress if it were anything more than a manipulation tactic to win my trust."

"Manipulation is a strong word!" Logan protested, "I just wanted you to-"

"-Get out of my room, so everything could magically fix? Did you think with the powers of puzzles and Disney movies, you could single-handedly put me back together?"

"I was just trying to help!"

Fight's eyes were cold. "I know you were. Until you weren't." He looked around the table, making eye contact with all of them. "I'm sure you've all been concocting little ways to fix everything, but trying to pretend you're not only makes you suspicious. If you confront me directly, I'm not going to break."

"Then why do you act like you will?" Roman erupted, finally coming to Logan's aid. "We can't talk to you, we can't look at you, we can't even be in the same room as you without you accusing somebody of conspiring against you! So why, pray tell, would you think we wouldn't be cautious around you?"

" _M_ _y_ job is to protect Flight!" Fight slammed a fist down on the table, standing from his seat. " _I_ take the lead, so he doesn't have to. _I_ call you out on your bullshit, because if nobody else does he could get hurt. I exist only to protect, and you think I can't deal with a few words? I don't think you're conspiring against me, dumbass- I'm making sure you're not conspiring against _him_." He looked away, his breathing ragged. After a moment, he took a deep breath to compose himself. "You treat  _him_ gently, not me," He continued, calmer. "You tread cautiously around  _him_ , not me. I'm the one who can take a punch." He rubbed his temples, like Virgil usually did when he had a headache, "Flight was right, trying to interact with you was a terrible idea."

 

Logan looked around- he hadn't even realized Flight was gone. Fight pushed away his chair and stalked away, down the hall. Before he could think better of it, Logan was out of his seat and following quickly behind.

"Fight," He tried to reason, "I'm sorry for losing sight of my original goal."

"I know you are." Fight didn't stop walking.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stay in my room until we stabilize." Fight turned the doorknob.

"We don't know how long that could be!" He protested.

"Sucks." The door slammed in Logan's face, missing his nose by a centimeter.

 

"Do you want to play Sudoku?" He asked lamely.

A muffled voice behind the door,

"Fuck off."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a fucking mess, sorry.  
> if you want, you can mosey on over to my profile and check out the other fic i'm working on, it's kinda (pretty) sad though just fyi. like, it gets pretty heavy sometimes (it's mostly a vent fic tbh). basically patton is depressed but runs into virgil before he can off himself and it's kinda how their friendship grows from there  
> HARDLY RELATED QUESTION I AM PERSONALLY INVESTED IN: does anybody still read demigod AUs?


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